OSaBC Addenda : The Memories We Forget to Remember
by LogicalPremise
Summary: Small snippets and one shots of some interesting moments, concepts and flashbacks in the long storyline of my AU OSaBC Series. Some hard language. Warning: possible glurge and angst, happy tears and fluff, and weaponized cuteness in the form of Wrex's son.
1. Rachel Florez

**A/N:** _I was challenged by several people to do a few one shots in the Premiseverse that you wouldn't usually see. These will be short (almost always under 5k words if not 2k) and mostly a mix of past and present snippets of a few people._

 _Rachel Florez, Benezia T'Soni, Aethyta, Aria, Jona Sederis, Zaeed, Kai Leng, the Illusive Man, Ahern, Rael'Zorah, Mordin Solus, and possibly Wrex and Urz will appear here. I lead off with a snippet about Rachel._

 _Warning: Sappy_

* * *

"Chin up, Marine."

Sara Shepard glared at the white-garbed woman standing in front of her, taking in the smooth lines of her face, the cruelly aquiline lips twisted into what might be a smile. With a sigh she straightened, muttering something cutting under her breath.

Rachel Florez narrowed her eyes as she adjusted the fall of Shepard's uniform top, critically scanning for flaws. "A Z2 is rarely given the chance to be more than a bullet sponge, Sara. I know you're still upset about Valens. But people fucking die, girl. The fact that he didn't buy it and is still alive is due to you. You need your head in the game before we go before the Board."

Sara's jaw tensed. "He was my squad. I… I fucked up. I always fuck up."

Rachel sighed, walking around her soldier to pull Sara's ratty black hair into a military bun. "I sometimes wonder what the fuck I have to do to you in order to get the whole guilt-trip complex out of your empty skull." She tugged, drawing a yelp from Sara, and her lips lifted more fully into a smile. "Stop whining."

She nearly burst out laughing when she saw Shepard pouting, and mused quietly to herself as she continued to adjust the uniform few Penal Legionaries ever got to wear – the off-blue and white jumper and slacks of a member about to leave the Legion and join the real SA military. In the aftermath of the mess on Vansha, where Shepard and her little crew had fucked up five times their number in enemies, it had been much easier to convince de la Muerte to let her and her buddies go.

Shepard passing her biotics C rating class – something very few 'hak' biotics, those who had black-market implants and no real biotic training – managed to accomplish had also played a role. Part of Rachel was trying to draw comparisons to her old squad.

Dunn, with his mouth, was the closest to Saracino, but Shields, who often reminded her of herself, was the sniper. Jackson and Kyle were similar in size, but the big blue-eyed giant was too flaky and weird – weirder than Kyle, and way more berserk. Rai was almost exactly like Chu had been, down to the Chinese looks and fascination with drones.

Rachel smiled as she finished her adjustments. Shepard as Ahern was a comparison that would have sent poor Tradius through the fucking roof. She could almost hear his ranting in her head.

She exhaled, then walked around in front of Shepard, placing both hands on the girl's shoulders. "Listen up."

Sara looked at her, the dark blue eyes always hard – trying to conceal the fear, the panic of failing, the worry of being tossed back to the trash she came from. The foul-mouthed cursing, the hard posturing, the 'I'm a badass bitch' fronting – it was all driven by fear.

Rachel gentled her voice. "You have gone through a lot of shit, girl. Been in places where most people would just curl up and die after a few days, much less years. You've already seen the very fucking worst, experienced shit as bad as it can get." She squeezed the narrow shoulders, feeling firm young muscle resist the press of her fingers. "You have put the people who did this to you in shallow goddamned graves. And you're going to prove today that everyone calling you a criminal piece of shit was wrong."

She stared hard. "You keep your fucking chin up out there, Sara. No matter what happens, no matter if the Board decides to deny your request, no matter if you get sent to the shit details on the border – I am right behind you every fucking step of the way."

Sara swallowed. "W…what if they—"

She shook her, lightly. "I don't give a shit if they tell you to set yourself on fire. We'll be two bitches burning together."

The cracked, chapped lips split in a whisper. "…Why?"

Rachel closed her eyes for a long moment. "I never knew my father. Kaasan was a whore, obachan was a whore." She used the Japanese words for mother and grandmother. "My life was one of fucking privation. I was a half-breed in a nation that sneered at such, and I was a fucktoy – by choice, because it was all I could do to eat, to live."

She squared her shoulders. "I used to be like you, thinking I didn't matter. That if anyone was showing me any care, it was to set me up to use me. I was a dirty washrag to be emptied upon. But then I met a man who didn't give a shit that I was used, and broken. He was more broken. He didn't care if I didn't know how to love him, that I didn't know how to even say what I felt."

She sighed. "He gave me a boy I couldn't claim as my own because of… political bullshit. And a girl, who got raped and killed by fucking spikes. Because the Alliance was too chickenshit to rock the fucking boat, instead of justice, of vengeance, I got words. Words and a blue star and a polite go fuck yourself."

She squeezed the girl's shoulders again. "You remind me so much of her it hurts to look at you. Except you're stronger than her. Stronger than me. I gave up on the ones around me. I gave up on my squad. I let my friends drive each other away and apart. You don't. You cling even if you don't know – if they don't know – what the fuck happens next."

She pulled back. "Valens didn't even have a trace of fear on his face in that fight, because he knew damn well you'd save his ass. And you did. You ask why? Because you don't let the shit you've gone through fucking ruin you. Because you spit in its fucking face and you scream 'No! No more of this bullshit!' "

She exhaled again, and watched tears form in the eyes of her student before they were angrily wiped away. "I still don't understand!"

Rachel nodded. "You will, one day, daughter of my spirit if not my body. You will understand what drives me, and drives you." Her smile turned sad, almost bitter. "And maybe you'll forgive me for what I have done to you."

Shepard looked confused, and, with a cluck, Rachel pulled out her handkerchief – one she usually used to polish her glasses – and wiped the girl's face. "Idiot child. Good thing you don't use makeup."

There was a gentle knock on the door, and Rachel barked. "In!"

It opened, revealing the broad features and form of Lieutenant Commander David Anderson. "Hello, Sara."

Shepard swallowed. "S-Sir."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "David, good to see you. I saw Kae a few weeks back. You two…?"

His face hardened. "No. Not after the shit with Kai." He sighed. "My own fault, I suppose. Doesn't matter much now. Kai and Theo are both dead, you're stuck pushing Penals, Ahern and I are failed Spectres, Tiny is in a lift chair, and Mike is dead. The only ones out of all of us who amounted to shit were Kyle and Chu."

Rachel sighed. "Mike was right, you are a depressing bastard, David. You ready for this circus?"

He nodded, pausing to look over Shepard. "You look sharp. I heard you set some kind of crazy record in qualifying for your C rating."

Rachel almost giggled at the shy nod from Shepard. Really, the girl could almost be cute if she wasn't so gangly – in a few years she'd finish growing into that frame and be something to behold.

She clapped a hand on the bigger man's shoulder. "It's good you are here. As usual, it's an Anglo sausage fest at the Board. Listening to me go on about her achievements and how far she's come… should sway them. But maybe not. They may not want to listen to me, after I raised hell about Adams making a pass at me, the letch."

Anderson's usually placid face contracted in anger, and his rich baritone became clipped. "I'll make sure none of that unpleasantness comes up. Sara doesn't belong anywhere but in the proper Marine Corps." He tilted his head. "Kyle invited you to his knighting and ennobling. You didn't come."

She shrugged, jerking a thumb at Sara. "Had something more important on my plate." Out of the corner of her eye she caught the confused flicker of gratitude, and Anderson nodded as if that made perfect sense.

"I understand. Let's not keep the Board waiting, shall we?" He stepped to Shepard's left, and Rachel took a position by her right, holding her by the elbow.

 **O-MEMORIES-O**

Years later, two older women sat side by side, staring out over a multitude of greenery under an artificial sky. The Citadel's environs had changed in some ways, but not in others, and Shepard never got tired of looking at the Presidium.

Despite being older than the woman next to her, the years had barely touched her – the hair was still glossy, raven-black, the skin smooth and unblemished. Jack, on the other hand, had aged well, but noticeably. The fall of the ponytail under the black beret was gray streaked with white, and her elegant cheekbones and liquid eyes dominated a face now lined with wrinkles and the occasional fading line of a scar.

They sat on the edges of Shepard's office, watching an elcor placidly watching his elcalves, sipping Scotch. Jack nudged the other woman with a bony elbow.

"Yo, She-bitch. You went all quiet on me."

Shepard smiled faintly. "Thinking about my mom."

Jack arched an eyebrow, then took another drink. "The one who sold you?"

Shepard sniffed, drawing a thumb across the base of her nose a moment later in a dismissive gesture. "Hell no. My _mom_. Woman who… made me some of what I am today. Rachel Florez."

Jack, who was well-acquainted with the group that had so much of a hand in her early life, frowned. "Wasn't she old school Dog?"

Shepard nodded. "Yeah. Turns out she was grooming me… cutting me off from people, making the Alliance take all the wrong moves, setting me up to both succeed and fail. She planned to make me her successor, to carry on her… work."

Jack shook her head, and stared out again at the vista of Presidium. "What brought this on? Teary-eyed remeni… remem… fuck. You know, that thing."

Shepard's lips quirked. "Reminiscence?"

Jack stuck out her tongue. "I'd know lots of fancy words too if I had grayboxes shoved in my head. Anyway." She waved her drink grandiosely. "We got all this shit out here to look at, you're like god-queen of the galaxy – what the hell you thinking about her for?"

Shepard gestured backwards, towards the office. "The discussion with Vena back there. Reminded me of you. Of me. Of her."

Jack sighed. "Yeah well. Just because we put boots in the bad guys and stuck our ladyboners up Harby's ass don't mean people like me and you don't slip through the cracks. She's tough."

Sara nodded. "I know." She exhaled. "I just… it just hit me how much of what Rachel taught me, what she… drilled into me… I passed along to you. And that you have passed along to Vena."

Jack shrugged. "She's a work in progress. She ain't picked up the most important part of being part of the badass bitch gang is fucking the shit out of asari yet."

Shepard shook her head in mirth. "I'm sure both of our asari would appreciate your vote of confidence. Never change, Jack."

The biotic woman rolled her eyes. "Gotta go with Mordin on this one." Her voice sped up, shifting to a higher pitch. "Never did. Won't start."

Shepard nodded, and turned back to gaze out at the Presidium. She sipped her drink, and gave a small, bitter smile.

 _I forgive you, mom._


	2. Rael'Zorah

**A/N:** _Most of this will not make sense, in some ways, until later on in ME3. It is portions of a work, a prequel involving Rael'Zorah I gave up on out of lack of interest, which discusses some things that pop up again in the ME3/4 fics I have planned._

 _This is really me just getting this scene out of my head and trying to make Rael less of a 2D lughead._

* * *

Rael'Zorah looked across the table at the black-cloaked turian, his suit seeming to close in around him. "I… did what you wanted."

With an almost reluctant motion he pushed the small, code-locked package of OSDs across the battered table. The building they were in – some abandoned, empty warehouse in the shittiest part of the Tayseri Lower Wards – was cast into long streaks of shadow pierced by flickering, failing lights visible though grimy windows, and the fell red glow of Tetrimus's cybernetic eye.

With an almost delicate motion, the old turian tapped his omni-tool, the wrapped omni-gel explosive around the OSDs shifting colors and then abruptly dissolving into paste. With clipped and precise motions he began to slide each one into his omni-tool, watching as they were copied. "So you have, Cera Zorah."

He took in the somewhat haggard female turian standing next to Rael, the chipped plates of her features not hiding the exhausted fear in her eyes, or the nervous clasp of talons around the big, young quarian's arm. A flicker of a mandible was his only indication of amusement, his voice as neutral as ever. "Although you appear to have created some disruption in the Wards tonight."

The quarian male's voice was hard, yet warbled with emotion. "I had to kill innocent people, you sick bosh'tet!"

Tetrimus gave a breathy wheeze, copying the second OSD. "There are no innocent people, quarian. There are only those who have not chosen – yet – to foul themselves. But even they are recipients of benefits bought on the suffering of others."

Sanas Soverian gave her own distressed sound, her mandibles spreading in disbelief. "How… how can you say that? The Hierarchy isn't built on evil!"

Tetrimus met her gaze with his own, pulling back his cowl for the first time they'd seen, and Rael felt his blood run slow and cold as he beheld that ravaged visage, the savage anger in the blood-red marks splattered across those tortured, burned features.

Tetrimus's voice was low and vicious, with a note of musing humor. "This is the result of such thinking, whelpling. The Hierarchy exists to propitiate the survival of the species. The tribe is everything, the single hunter is nothing. You cannot live by such strictures and expect to not pay for the good of the many by the subjugation – the punishment – of the few."

He copied another OSD. "I was betrayed by the Primarch because of his sense of honor. Because the coward was too weak to stand up to the salarians and asari, because his idiocy had turned the Primarchs against him, because his arrogance turned the Praetors against him. Because of his weakness, we invaded the humans, and millions died. Our economy was lost. The best and brightest of an entire generation were slaughtered by those honorless dogs."

He exhaled. "I was left for dead because I failed at an impossible mission, and instead of admitting he had underestimated his foe, decided that I was the one at fault." He dropped an OSD back down to the table, picking up another. "I will not lie to you, young quarian. I am driven by hate, and by a clear understanding of the nature of this universe." The cybernetic eye flicked up to meet his. "Nothing in life is gratis. My motto, if you will."

Rael gave him a disbelieving look. "Charity exists! Generosity exists! Altruism and kindness are real things! Just because you never experienced them—"

He gave a whispery laugh. "Oh, to be young and blind again." He glanced at the girl. "And you? You feel the same?"

Sanas met his gaze, unflinchingly. "Much requires sacrifice, but sacrifice is only honorable when freely given."

Tetrimus sneered. "A trite summation. All of the things you mentioned happened because of a return. One is kind because they hope others will be kind in turn. One is charitable out of either wishing to assuage vague feelings of discomfort or for tax purposes. One is generous because one has gouged and abused others to afford such largess."

Rael would have liked to fold his arms, but Sanas was still pressed up against him and he realized he didn't want to move her. "Recycler drip. If that's the case, why did I warn you about the STG, when they forced us to admit I had sold you had the package back there? I could have let them kill you, picked this thing up and been on my merry way. I didn't!"

Tetrimus began copying the final OSD. "I find you and your fire endlessly amusing, Rael'Zorah. When this mess started, you were hesitant and unsure. Now you kill. You defy. You risk your life for what you feel is right, rejecting what is wrong even when it costs you."

He watched the progress on his omni-tool "Choosing to spare my life might have cost you. I could have killed you… once I was done copying. Or had my men surround the building and finish you off once I was done to you, to eliminate loose ends. My boss hates loose ends, you see."

Sanas stepped back, going for her shotgun, but Rael held up his hand. "Kr'thka spew! I did it because I'm not going to have your blood on my hands. I did it because you helped me and Sanas get the hell away from the STG traitor! I did it because it was the right thing to do." His glowing eyes narrowed. "Don't group me in with your lifestyle. The quarian people have been cast out and away, and there are times I am glad we were, since at least we haven't sunk to your level!"

Tetrimus said nothing for a long moment, before neatly stacking the OSDs into a small pile and pushing them back across the table. "There was a time I believed as you did. That honor, that righteousness, had some meaning. That our existence had a purpose behind the blind collision of atoms, the mindless demands of chemical interactions and animal instinct." The turian stood, darker than the dim surroundings, cold and terrible. "And then I awoke to the truth. Life itself is meaningless. There is no high purpose, no greater calling. No moral imperative. There is merely life, and then its cessation. You can expend your entire span of years attempting to cram it full of context and meaning. Or you can merely endure it as you can."

He tapped his omni-tool "Yet others will always thwart your intentions. This data has killed thousands. It will no doubt kill tens of thousands more. In the hands of Aria, as Edat tried to get you to comply with, it would have sent thousands into slavery and death. In the grasp of the STG or Cerberus, who knows where the killing would have ended." The cowl was pulled forward. "You claim to be righteous – yet you yourself said you were seeing this through so that the Broker would provide assistance to your Fleet. Your selfish needs superseded the deaths, the horror this information will bring about."

Rael'Zorah hung his head. "Perhaps. But the atrocities will not be at my hands."

Tetrimus snorted. "Of course not. Never is it those who cause the blade to need to be drawn that are responsible, after all." His voice was cutting and mocking. "You will understand one day, little fool. You will be called upon to sacrifice everything you are for your people – and when you are gone, they will piss on your memory, and call you a fool, and your bravery and honesty, your honor and altruism – no one will recall them."

He tapped the omni a second time. "The cruisers once belonged to the STG. I am sure you can find some use for five of the things. They're a bit too hot for us to find any good use for. The money is in your account. I bid you good luck, young one. I believe when your people depart, they say: 'keelah se'lai.' "

And with that, the turian simply was gone, erupting into electrical energy and fading from sight.

Sanas glanced at Rael, and then at the OSDs. "…Now what?"

Behind his mask, Rael smiled bitterly. "We'll split the money. I'll take the ships and go back home a hero with the mod. If you want a copy to take back with you—"

She shook her head. "Aria already wrote me off. I… I'll stay here. The Shifter said he had something for me. I can't go back."

He nodded. "We can never go back to who we used to be, sometimes."

 **O-MEMORIES-O**

Vettah'Moreau van Zorah vas Rannoch looked up at the glossy stone statue, folding her arms and frowning. Her long, silvery quills trailed from her narrow skull, the edges of the plating near the top carefully trimmed back.

"He was a real dick, you know."

The quarian Admiral turned to the human beside her. For a human over three hundred years old, Sara Shepard looked well-preserved indeed. The only hint of her age was a handful of faint lines across her forehead, and a few streaks of gray in the hair.

Dressed in flat-black casuals with a high collar and a simple, silver star on the collar, the woman didn't look like the most powerful being in space. And in a way, she didn't act like it.

"Then why are you here, Lady Sara, protesting our action, if you disliked my great-grandfather?"

The human's features twisted. "Rael was a complicated guy. He was… brave. Real brave. When the shit went down with the geth and things went totally bad here at Rannoch, the rest of your people, forgive me for saying it, cried like little bitches and ran." She gestured to the city beyond. "You'd have none of this if not for him. He was a stiff necked, holier-than-thou asshole who thought he knew better than everyone, but didn't know how to treat his own daughter. But he was also brave and owned his mistakes better than any turian I ever met."

The cold, storm-blue gaze turned to meet that of Vettah's own. "That's why I'm here. Your goddamned Admiralty has about pissed me off for the last time, and this stunt is the one that may make me act a fool."

Vettah stiffened slightly. "We… that is, the choice we came to was not done in haste. But knowing it was _his_ own action that gave Daro'Xen what she needed…"

Shepard smiled faintly. "I never met his wife, but I met his old turian girlfriend. On the Citadel. She told me Rael never tried to do anything but the right thing and kept paying for that. Same principle applies." Her voice grew colder. "I had a lot of options when things blew up with the Reapers, and then a century later with the Leviathans. I could have done shit differently and maybe things might have been… better. I don't see anyone second-guessing me or my fucking legacy, even though you can lay twenty billion fucking deaths at my door."

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'll be at the Admiralty Halls in an hour. You people had better think carefully. Dishonoring Rael's sacrifice will send a message not just to the Alliance and the Geth Collective, but to your relatives in the SA."

Vettah felt her mouth go dry. "…We must balance the needs of the many against… the wishes of those already gone."

Shepard shook her head in disgust. "I'd have thought a descendant of Tali would know the moral bankruptcy of that kind of math. Save ten million here by killing five million there. Make the Admiralty look good by smearing the guy who made this all possible. What's the fucking difference; it's just history, right?" The human woman straightened. "History is the only thing we have to remind us of what the fuck almost got us all killed. What turned this galaxy into a shit hole for millennia. Greed, fear, pride, and above all else, lies and secrets. I can't tell you what to do. I can only tell you that doing the right thing for the right reasons is always going to be better than doing the right thing for the wrong fucking reasons."

She stepped away, and the quarian was left with her thoughts, and the imposing statue of her ancestor, Admiral Rael'Zorah, screaming defiance at the Reaper he'd brought down over Rannoch.


	3. Benezia T'Soni

**A/N:** _The next chapter of TWCD is about halfway done, but it will be a while before it is ready for editing, much less publishing. To tide people over, I wrote up this snippet._

 _Yes, the Catalyst can do that._

* * *

The howling screams of the mixed band of batarians and krogan in the distance slowly died down, as the last of the clever traps Aethyta had set for them were expended. The battered ruins of the once large city of Paethos, capital of the turian separatist group Axitas, were now a burning hellscape. Gangs and raiders battled confused packs of separatists, even while the turian fleet began to set their orbits for orbital bombardment.

"You just _had_ to come here, digging up old shit, didn't you, Nezzy?" Aethyta's voice was harsh as she pulled yet another burnt out component from the air-bike, wincing as she examined the compression chamber. "Goddamned batarians shouldn't have plasma rifles… nexu-smeared thing is fried." She slotted in a new part, but the bike still didn't start.

Another explosion rang out in the battered heights above, and Benezia grit her teeth, holding her shotgun tightly. Her biotic reserves had been utterly drained by the fight, and Aethyta had already lost her sniper rifle and her assault rifle. They had pistols, a shotgun, and their warp swords, and the gangers were clearly catching up.

If the air-bike was working, they could have escaped – the spaceport was in ruins, but their shuttle was still intact, ten kilometers away. Without the bike… the chances of two tired old asari outrunning over five hundred pissed-off krogan and batarians – and their filthy vorcha thralls – on foot was about zero.

Benezia bit her lip as the first few vorcha crested the hilltop, looking down on the worn plascrete parking lot where they'd had to leave the bike. They hit the very last of Aethyta's traps, a plasma burst mine that sent their burning corpses flying through the air to land with messy thuds and splatters of body parts.

The entire 'adventure' they'd been on had gone wrong from the start, when they'd realized the planet was overrun. It had only gotten worse when they had to go on foot after a batarian had nearly killed them with a shot from a looted asari rifle. But at first, the task had seemed easy. A lost set of writings from Matriarch Cantah Vabo was here, one of the first asari to trade knowledge with the turian mystics. She'd been murdered in her sleep centuries later, but notes Benezia had discovered suggested useful information could be found here.

It was useful, alright – Cantah had collected detailed information on the process of turian biotic training, usage, and several biotic abilities the turians had invented, but never mastered. The information was worth tens of millions of credits – money they needed to continue their work with the Black Blades and the Triune Unity.

They figured the gang rebellion would keep the authorities of the planet busy while they snuck in and out.

Unfortunately, the gangs were more powerful and competent than expected, and the violence overrunning the planet spilled into the capital just as they were trying to get away. The gangers – for whatever reason – wanted them both dead. Benezia was sure she and Aethyta could kill dozens and dozens of the thugs – they'd already killed a good five or six hundred of them in the running fights they'd been in so far.

But their biotics were exhausted, they were battered and wounded, and their air-bike was down.

"This isn't going to work." Benezia swallowed back agony to throw a final strike of warpfire at the hilltop, incinerating a pair of loping vorcha and making the rest draw back. She hissed in pain and fell to her knees as the last of her biotic strength gave out.

Aethyta grimaced and continued to fiddle with the panel on the air-bike, a cigarette dangling from her lips. "Course it will. You just—" she grunted, shoving something, and the power systems of the bike came alive. Standing, she wiped her hands clean. "—gotta have a little faith, babe." She tapped the controls of the bike, which started up with a breathy growl, and grinned.

Benezia gave the bike an arched glance. "Figures."

She got on after Aethyta did, as a wave of screaming angry gangers topped the rise of the hill, and found herself smiling as the bike bucked and leapt forward, outdistancing the few badly aimed shots fired in their direction in a second.

 **O-MEMORIES-O**

The chambers of the Catalyst were, as always, stark and cold. The view of the Citadel was breathtaking, but the room itself, with its hulking computer banks, haptic screens, and hard metallic surfaces shorn of any hint of décor were always jarring to Liara.

Shepard liked it that way, she knew. Even after years and years of being bonded, Liara's more refined aesthetic taste had not impacted her wife very much.

She bit her lip as she approached the central dais. She could still feel the sleepy impact of Sara against her own mind, snuggled into the covers at the palatial apartments they stayed at when on the Citadel, down spin on the Presidium from her.

She would not approve of this, but Liara had to know. She took another tiny step forward.

"Catalyst."

Her voice echoed, and for long seconds Liara wondered if it would even respond, seeing as how it refused to communicate with any but Sara. Then a ball of glowing light appeared, unformed and somehow hard to look upon.

"I have made my position clear. I am disinclined to communicate with anyone but the Impetus. Despite your connection, you are not her."

Liara swallowed. "I know. And yet I have a question of you. Sara has said you can… bring the shapes, the memories, the personality of the departed back. That you do so to taunt her, or make her think."

Long seconds passed again, and then the ball pulsed in a manner that reminded her of Vigil. "Time, as you understand it, is but a limitation. A framework that allows your three-dimensional bodies to proceed through endless snapshots, all neatly laid out in a line. Your understanding of 'time' is no more real than a two-dimensional drawing of a hyper cube. The dead are only dead in your arrow of time. But to do such things is not a trivial use of the Godpower."

Liara nodded. "And yet, I still would ask a boon." Her voice hardened. "It is only by my efforts that she has remained sane all these years, after all. It was my argument that convinced her to work with you. I could make the argument that I am as much Sara Shepard as I am Liara T'Soni, or the reverse. I do not ask for technology, or knowledge of the Forbidden, or anything of that nature."

She looked up. "I want to talk to my mother."

The sphere expanded, contracted, and the unmistakable sound of amusement echoed through the chamber. "A curious specification. Normally the answer would be 'no.' But… perhaps you are right that you are also Shepard, in your way…"

There was some sort of _twisting_ – a flash of something that was not light, and a pair of blue lips that quirked. "…Little Wing."

Liara fought hard to maintain her composure. Benezia T'Soni stood before here, dressed in pale yellows and a black shawl, her expression one of arch expectation and amusement – an expression she'd seen a thousand times.

But there was no blue tint to her form, no translucence as Shepard described the images of Cole, of Zaeed, of her father and mother, of Kaidan having. This was as if Benezia herself had arisen from the dead.

Liara found her mouth dry, and Benezia sighed as she stepped closer. "I am… still the Catalyst. And yet, I am Benezia, daughter of Rhysis." The smile tightened. "Minus the indoctrination. It is not permanent. To fully resurrect the dead is to violate a law that should not be violated, and that I will not do."

The gentle fingers tilted up Liara's chin, just as they had in life. "But I can answer your questions, if you are brave enough to ask." Those ice-cold eyes were not her mother's, and Liara firmed her will.

"Why did you really let my aithntar leave you, when you needed her to remain the person you were?"

The Catalyst-Benezia gave a sharp exhalation, and something like pain entered her expression. "In life, she… _I_ wrote of the power of being a mother. Of the responsibility, of the duty, of the pain and glory. It is an awesome and frightening thing, to be given charge of developing a new life. One that, even at the age that you were born, was… daunting in many ways." Benezia's head dipped, her face lined with a bitter smile. "But I never wrote of the power of being a _bondmate_. I think you know enough, in your own bonding with Shepard, to understand the… issues."

Liara swallowed and nodded, but before she could speak her mother held up a hand. "I am still answering your question." Benezia's voice gentled. "It was hard, for me, to… accommodate what we had become. In our youth, we were free, careless spirits. We lost that – I lost that – because, unlike Eth, I did not understand what we had in those days. Instead, I… betrayed her. I abandoned her to obey my family, a family that disliked my choices."

She smiled. "It is darkly ironic, daughter. Once, in my youth, I was more interested in ancient history and old studies, much as you were focused on the Protheans. And my own mother and aithntar chided me for such distractions."

Liara found her mouth set into a line. "Yes, very ironic."

Benezia sighed. "I left her that first time. When we reunited, she was… much more fragile. She had done so many terrible things, Little Wing. Murder beyond count. Bombings, poisonings, assassination, and worse. She was drenched in blood and hated herself, trapped by her own actions. She'd become little more than a sword of the Council of Matriarchs, and wanted a different life."

"I tried to give her that." Benezia's voice was musing, but also softly filled with pain and regret. "But I forgot how badly I had hurt her. She had not. It was… difficult to make things work, when one got sidetracked." Benezia turned from Liara. "It put scar tissue on the soul. Of seeing plans be frustrated and of having no comfort to offer. Of clinging in the dark, scared out of your mind you will lose that which is your core. Of carefully tending wounds in a hospital while your bondmate clings to life by a thread, feeling agony and pain and worst of all fear in the bond , stabbing you over and over."

Liara's fist tightened. She knew those things very well indeed.

The mother looked upon the daughter. "My wisdom was in guidance, in the steps of the dance. I told myself I could be the rose to Eth's sword, the smile to her scowl. But I never bothered to ask why she pursued what she did. I let myself drift in her wake, and when she wanted a child she and I had very different ideas of the path your life should take."

Benezia looked down. "Aethyta wanted a synthesis of her way and mine. She wanted you to be your own person, free of guidance that might lead you down the wrong path. She had every faith in your skills and future before you were even born… and I did not. Like a fool – like the fool who had thrown Eth's love away once before – I wanted to shape your life, convinced I knew best on how to keep you from suffering what I had." Benezia turned back to face Liara. "Instead, I inflicted it upon you, in the end."

Liara shrugged. "That does not tell me why you let her leave."

Benezia's eyes narrowed. "Because she loved me. More than her own life, or her own beliefs. When the Black Blades were disgraced and her own acolyte was uncovered as being in league with the traitorous daughter of House Vielsa, she knew the Council had set us both up. They feared the power of the Armali Council. They feared our houses rapidly rising once more. They feared the houses that had killed the Silent Queen."

Benezia looked away. "For all my skill in politics, Aethyta saw the trap I did not. She took all blame onto herself, for the sins of her followers and my own. She left you with me, convinced that her way was right… and that her way was also what led her into her own issues. She acted as a lightning rod, to ensure the Triune would not suffer. That I would not be called to account." Benezia smiled, but it was thin and bitter. "I tried to stop her, Liara. By the Goddess, I tried. But nothing I said… mattered. She was never going to let the darkness that stained her destroy me, or you. So I didn't let her go… I simply couldn't stop her."

Liara nodded slowly. "The Council of Matriarchs said her people were planning some kind of… coup attempt. My aithntar said she knew nothing of such a thing. Was she lying to me?"

Benezia's laugh was cold. "I honestly do not know. Aethyta was involved in very dark, ugly things for the Council. She knew terrible secrets and had done even worse. Aria T'Loak was her fault. Midnight's Kiss was her fault. In some ways, even the Dark Matriarch Trellani could be laid at her feet as well as mine." She looked back up. "But I would think she had no reason to lie to you, given most of the Thirty are now dead."

Liara nodded. "…Yes. I wish things had been different." She looked up. "I…"

Benezia shook her head. "I must go. The strain of… defying reality is not trivial. You will not make the mistakes I made, or that Eth made. You have already shown you are far more ready than we were."

Benezia stepped forward, embracing Liara in a tight hug. "Goodbye, Little Wing. Do not forget what I told you – no matter what, I was, and am, always proud of you. I will always love you. I will see you with the dawn."

Liara bit her lip and clung, until the form in her arms evaporated into a cool blue mist that vanished a few moments later entirely. The voice that rang out was calm and amused.

"I have seen many mortals live, and many die. I have heard declarations of faith, bravery, defiance, and courage over the many cycles. But I will say one thing of your progenitor, Liara T'Soni. Never have I seen a being so completely dominated and remade by my Reapers to be able to resist as she did at the end. To this day, I have no conception of how she found the strength to do so."

Tears crested Liara's eyes, and she gave a shaky exhale as she wiped them on the sleeve of her dress. "She remembered that darkness has to give way to light."

There was a long pause, and then the voice sounded again. "I do not understand this, any more than I understand Shepard's final choices. But I am not the decider, thus, perhaps, I do not need to understand. Is there anything else?"

Liara thought to herself, then shook her head. "…No." She wiped her eyes again. "Thank you."


End file.
